


Set it Down

by DeadpanMage



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, But they're making it work, Eddie Kaspbrak is Bad at Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, I mean they're seniors but it's not SUPER relevant, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Morning After, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rated T for Trashmouth, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, that is my favorite tag in this fandom, well Eddie is having a crisis but you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-21 21:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22603675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadpanMage/pseuds/DeadpanMage
Summary: Eddie shifts his gaze to Richie’s bedroom door. He doesn’t think he could get up without waking Richie, which would only expedite the conversation they were inevitably going to need to have. Because things were Different now, in a way Eddie had been steadfastly avoiding without fully realizing he’d been doing it.Needless to say, he’d realized a lot of things the previous night.~Or, Eddie is forced to do some self-reflection the morning after he and Richie sleep together
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 172





	Set it Down

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic on January 1st, so "semi-angsty character study" is apparently the vibe I'm bringing into 2020. This fic was originally supposed to be VERY short, like less than 1000 words, but then Eddie kept refusing to have an emotionally open conversation. He got there though! Proud of him.  
> The title of this fic is taken from the Caitlin Conlon poem "April Horoscopes," specifically the "Scorpio" passage because Scorpio Eddie is the hill I will die on.  
> Thank you to @swords_and_words for beta reading this fic! My number one copilot here in Clown Town

Eddie hasn’t moved at all since he woke up. He’s not even sure if he’s breathing. It certainly doesn’t feel like it.  
Richie is definitely breathing. Eddie knows this because he can feel it, can feel the way Richie’s chest is moving up and down from where it’s pressed to Eddie’s back. He also has an arm wrapped around Eddie, and his face is buried in Eddie’s hair.  
He can see Richie’s glasses sitting on his nightstand. Eddie is very pointedly looking at Richie’s glasses and not Richie’s jeans, which are crumpled in a pile on the floor right next to his own.  
Eddie thinks he might scream.  
He’d like to be able to claim that the night before was locked in a haze, hidden behind the fog of some mood altering substance he can blame his actions on. But it’s not. He can remember every single detail, from the light rain that had been tapping against the window to how Richie’s hands had felt roaming across his bare chest, how they’d felt when he’d—  
Eddie shifts his gaze to Richie’s bedroom door. He doesn’t think he could get up without waking Richie, which would only expedite the conversation they were inevitably going to need to have. Because things were Different now, in a way Eddie had been steadfastly avoiding without fully realizing he’d been doing it.  
Needless to say, he’d realized a lot of things the previous night. 

It had been almost 11 o’clock when Eddie had knocked on the Tozier’s door. Both of Richie’s parents had already gone to bed, so Richie answered the door himself.  
“Spaghetti man! To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
“Don’t call me that,” Eddie said on instinct. “Can I stay the night?”  
“Why of course, old chap!” Richie said in his god awful British accent. “You know you’re always welcome in me palace!”  
“Shut up. But thank you.”  
Eddie had taken to spending the night at one of the other Losers’ houses whenever he got into a particularly bad fight with his mother, something that had been happening with more and more frequency as the group’s senior year had gone on. It had gotten to the point where Eddie permanently had a backpack packed in the back of his closet with pajamas and an extra toothbrush, so he’d be ready to leave his house at a moment’s notice. Over the past month, Eddie had been spending most nights at Richie’s in particular, with the excuse of it being most convenient distance wise. Which was true, but Eddie still felt like he was making excuses whenever he said it.  
Point being, it was a standard affair for them. Nothing that night should’ve been different. It _wasn’t_ different, not at first. But Eddie had been having the exact same argument with his mother for the past five months (for the past twelve years, really. Sonia Kaspbrak buried her son’s independence the same day she buried her husband, and she only mourned for one), and he felt like he had long since reached his boiling point. Eddie had walked into the Tozier house tense, angry, and ready to do something he mother would have fucking despised. Or maybe Richie just brought that desire for rebellion out in him, pushing Eddie to see himself as more than the limitations his mother put on him.  
Either way, Eddie had been fully aware of how the events of the night might turn out when he’d turned and met Richie’s soft gaze as they both laid on his bed, talking about nothing in particular. Richie looked at him like that sometimes, when he thought he could get away with it undetected. It was a look Eddie had forced himself not to try and unpack, filled with a simple, tender _want_ that should’ve looked out of place on someone as bombastic as Richie, but never did. The jolt of giddy joy Eddie felt whenever he noticed Richie looking at him like that out of the corner of his eye was _another_ thing he’d often forced out of his mind, but that night he hadn’t felt like falling back on old habits.  
For once, he’d wanted things to be different.

 _Careful what you wish for, Kaspbrak._  
Eddie looks to the clock on Richie’s nightstand, before remembering that Richie had unplugged it months ago with no intention of ever turning it back on. So he has no way of knowing what time it is. If his mother is awake yet. If _Richie’s parents_ are awake yet, if they’d knock on his door, open it and see the two of them laying here—  
Eddie needs to get up, _now_. He needs to get up, leave, and pretend this never happened. He tries to carefully shimmy his way out of Richie’s arms, attempting to shift the bed as little as possible. He manages to get himself to the edge of the bed, but just as Eddie is trying to think of how to get up without moving the blankets he feels Richie begin to stir and instantly freezes. After what feels like hours but was probably closer to a couple of seconds, Eddie hears Richie sleepily mutter:  
“Eds? You awake?”  
_God_ if Eddie’s heart doesn’t stutter a little hearing Richie’s voice still raspy and soft from sleep. He’s struck with the near overwhelming desire to turn back over and bury his face into the crook of Richie’s neck, content to stay in bed and listen to him talk for hours. But it’s a new day, as sunlight streaming through the window cruelly reminds him, and consequences feel tangible and dangerous in a way they hadn’t under nightfall.  
“Yeah I’m awake,” Eddie replies. “I’m sorry, I was trying not to wake you up.”  
“No problem,” Richie mumbles as he sits up. “What time is it?”  
“No clue,” Eddie says as he hands Richie his glasses. “Your clock is “broken”, remember?”  
“And what? Your watch stopped working or something?”  
_Oh, right._ Eddie wasn’t entirely sure where his watch had ended up, having thrown it across the room the night before, briefly after having done the same thing to Richie’s shirt. He quickly scans over the room and spots it in a corner next to said shirt, and gets up from the bed to retrieve it.  
The air is cold against Eddie’s bare legs. He had put his boxers back on before falling asleep, but nothing else. Eddie has to resist the urge to flinch when he hears Richie wolf whistle behind him.  
It’s 9:57 am. His mother is definitely awake, which means she’s camped out in the living room, waiting for Eddie to walk through the door. He doesn’t know how he’s going to look at her without shattering under her already merciless gaze.  
_She’ll find out,_ a cruel voice in his head supplies. _She’ll find out and she’ll lock you in that house and melt down the key and you’ll never be free and you’ll die sick and alone all because you couldn’t stop the dirty little thoughts in your rotten little head and now look at you, taking Richie down with you—_  
Eddie doesn’t realize he’s shaking until the watch falls out of his hands.  
“Eddie, are you okay?” He hears Richie ask, suddenly sounding much more awake.  
“I should go,” Eddie says. He quickly picks his watch back up and turns to get his clothes, not looking at where Richie is sitting on the bed.  
“Are you sure? You don’t have to. I can make pancakes, and we can kick Wentworth out of his dad pad and watch movies. I’ll let you have first pick, whatever you want…” Richie keeps talking, proposing more plans for the day, but Eddie tries to tune him out. It stings to think about how easy it all sounds.  
“I really can’t,” Eddie finally cuts in as he pulls his shirt back on. “My mom is definitely waiting for me.”  
“A couple more hours aren’t gonna kill her. You came here _avoiding her_ last night, now you’ve gotta go rushing back?” Richie asks bitterly.  
“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie says, feeling a sour taste starting to form in the back of his throat.  
“Alright, sure, go back to mommy. Guess you’ll _come_ here again next time you need a—”  
“Shut _up_ , Richie!” Eddie snaps back. “Just shut up or I swear—”  
“What?” Richie says, suddenly inches away from Eddie. “What _exactly_ are you gonna do, Eds?”  
It would be so easy to kiss him right now.  
So Eddie does.  
Because he’s pathetic like that.  
Richie starts to melt into it, easy and warm like the night before, before suddenly pulling back.  
“What the _fuck_ ,” Richie says under his breath, not looking at Eddie also not moving away from him. “I’m getting some mixed fucking signals here, Eds.”  
Eddie doesn’t say anything. What the hell is he _supposed_ to say, when Richie looks like whatever Eddie _does_ say next is going to determine whether he snaps in two? Eddie is used to being looked at like he’s breakable, not like he’s the one capable of doing the breaking. He honestly doesn’t know if he is. Not right now, at least.  
Richie steps away from him suddenly, and starts retrieving his own clothes.  
“Look Spaghetti, if this was just, like, a casual thing, that’s all you’ve gotta say. You know I’m always gonna support your acts of teenage rebellion.”  
It’s a clear way out. Richie won’t look him in the eye, and it would be a giant goddamn lie on both of their parts, but it’s a way out.  
_Fuck_ , Eddie is such a goddamn coward.  
“I’m sorry,” he mutters as he goes to pick his discarded backpack up from by the door. _Jesus_ , Eddie hadn’t even brushed his teeth last night, he realizes with some disgust. He wonders how much of a dick move it would be to use Richie’s bathroom before he leaves. As Eddie is weighing out the risk of running into one of Richie’s parents, he hears Richie start laughing behind him.  
“What’s so funny?” Eddie asks.  
“I mean… you’ve gotta admit Eddie Spaghetti: this is all pretty goddamn hilarious.”  
Anger boils up in Eddie’s chest. “You fucking— oh my god. Are you fucking serious? There isn’t anything about this situation that is remotely funny.”  
“Well it kind of had to be funny, Eddie, because otherwise it’s just fucking depressing!” Richie says, finally looking at Eddie. When Eddie doesn’t say anything, Richie continues:  
“I mean, fucking look at us, Eds. We’re both just standing here too fucking chicken shit to say any of the stuff we’re thinking. And you’re right, _that_ isn’t really that funny. The _funny_ part is that I’ve been—” Richie suddenly stops himself from talking, a look of panic flashing over his face. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. I’ll see you Monday, Eddie.”  
Eddie sighs, dropping some of the tension from his shoulders. “Richie—”  
“I said forget it, man! It’s not a big deal. Just Trashmouth not knowing when to shut up, right?”  
“ _Richie_ —”  
“Isn’t Mrs. K waiting for you?” Richie spits out. Eddie instantly re-tenses.  
“You are _such_ a prick sometimes—”  
“Oh, _I’m_ the prick? Fucking sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, Eds.”  
“ _Fuck_ you, Rich—”  
“Oh, are you sure you wouldn’t rather I fuck y—”  
_“What the fuck is wrong with you?”_  
The whole room seems to freeze. The whole house, probably, as Eddie figures there’s no way Richie’s parents didn’t just hear him yell that. After the longest minute of Eddie’s entire life, Richie drops back down onto his bed, all of the fight seemingly drained out of him.  
“You want that list in alphabetical order?” he eventually mutters, eyes fixed on his ceiling.  
“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, wanting to walk over Richie but unable to make himself move.  
“Or would it be easier to list what _isn’t_ wrong with me? I’ll tell you now, Eds, that one would probably be the biggest time saver.”  
“Richie, I—”  
“Hang on, I’ve got it: we’ll start with what’s most fucked up and work our way down! Alrighty, item one: I’ve been over here fucking mooning over you for what, five fucking years now? And lately things have felt, I don’t know, different? You’ve been staying here as much as you have your actual house, and I swear to _god_ sometimes you look at me and it feels like you _know_. You know, and you don’t…then last night happened, and I convinced myself I had a fucking shot, but now I’m being a massive fucking asshole like that’s gonna make you _leaving_ hurt less. And now I’m just, you know, laying all this shit on you when you _clearly_ don’t want it, like it’s gonna do fucking anything but make you realize how fucking gross I am.”  
Eddie’s heart is pounding in his ears. He’s not entirely sure if it’s from fear or elation.  
Five _years_?  
Eddie once again has no fucking clue what to say in this situation, so he just opens his mouth and starts talking.  
“You’re not gross. Okay no, that’s a lie, sometimes you’re really gross. You let ice cream drip out of the cone all over your hands and they get _so_ fucking sticky. You’ll wear the same undershirt for like, a _month_ because you think no one will notice as long as you wear a different button up. I noticed. Also, I know for a _fact_ you forget to brush your teeth sometimes when we all sleep over at Bill’s—”  
“Is there a point here, or is the goal to just make me feel even shittier?” Richie asks, his voice sounding strained.  
“Sorry,” Eddie says quickly. Biting back his nerves, Eddie walks over and sits next to where Richie is laying on his bed before continuing. “My point is: that’s why you’re gross. Not because… because of anything else.” _If you say it, Eddie-bear, then it’s real. No second chances._  
“Eddie, I had your dick in my mouth last night. I think we’ve moved past the “you-know-what” stage of this conversation.”  
Richie Tozier, always ready to steamroll past Eddie’s internal anxieties like it was an Olympic sport.  
“Fine,” Eddie huffs out, forcing himself to rise to the challenge. “Let’s just not have this conversation right _now_ , okay? Shelve it for when it’s at least 48% less terrifying. Today, let’s just be us. Exist without worrying about the consequences. That’s all I want right now."  
Eddie takes the opportunity to make good on his thought from earlier and practically throws himself on top of Richie, burying his face into the crook of Richie’s neck.  
“Let’s pretend that this is normal. That we’re normal. That we can feel like this and make each other happy and not have to be scared of what other people think about it,” Eddie mutters.  
Richie looks like he’s about to say some half-assed attempt at a joke, probably something about how the two of them missed the boat on normal a _long_ time ago, but after a moment all he says is “okay. That actually sounds fucking great.”  
“Great.” Eddie smiles as he kisses Richie’s jaw. “Now: I’m pretty sure you promised me pancakes.”  
That sends Richie into a bout of full-body laughter. He grabs Eddie by the hips and pulls him even further on top of him, before moving in to kiss him properly. Eddie smiles into it, taking a minute to drink in the joy of the moment before pulling back.  
“Okay, we _both_ need to brush our fucking teeth.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoyed this! I've been putting most of my energy into this fic lately but now that it's done I'll (hopefully) be back to focusing my other WIPs! If you'd like to here more about those, or just poke at me to actually sit down and work on them, you can find me on tumblr @kaspbrakatitagain! My inbox is always open :)


End file.
